


The Unexpected Comfort of Draco Malfoy From Neville Longbottom

by mk_malfoy



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-19
Updated: 2010-03-19
Packaged: 2017-10-08 03:36:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mk_malfoy/pseuds/mk_malfoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco, lost and alone after the battle that saw the downfall of the Dark Lord, receives some comfort from the most unlikely of people. Draco/Neville</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Unexpected Comfort of Draco Malfoy From Neville Longbottom

**Title**: The Unexpected Comfort of Draco Malfoy From Neville Longbottom  
**Author**: MK Malfoy  
**Pairing**: Draco Malfoy/Neville Longbottom  
**Rating**: NC-17  
**Warnings**: None  
**Summary**: Draco, lost and alone after the battle that saw the downfall of the Dark Lord, receives some comfort from the most unlikely of people. Draco/Neville  
**Words**: 2350  
**Disclaimer**: I own none of this.  
**A/N**: This fic is dedicated to the memory of a wonderful person named Irana, who has touched the lives of many over the past several years as we have all played in the Harry Potter fandom. She loved Draco/Neville and actually encouraged me to write them as a pairing, which I did … about four years ago. Now I am writing another. Rest in Peace, dear Irana.

~*~

Filch sat on the top step that led to the North Tower, counting Sickles and Knuts.

Without Mrs Norris, who had either run away or been killed during the battle, Argus Filch looked lost … and badly injured. His arm, which had been broken in three places, was encased in a magical bubble, and his face was covered in abrasions. He looked to be in pain, and it was a foregone conclusion that the man was suffering the after-effects of the battle.

He wasn't the only one.

Three days post-Voldemort, Hogwarts was little more than an abandoned castle, little resembling the fortress she had been to almost three hundred students for almost a thousand years.

En masse, Parents had come for their children the morning after the battle—there was a near-riot at the Hogsmeade train station when one of the first year's mothers pushed to the ground a seventh year Slytherin's mother. Kingsley had broken up that near disaster, but not before receiving a black eye and bloody nose for his efforts.

A handful of teachers remained at Hogwarts, but they, too, would be leaving within two days.

The castle demanded their departure.

The school was not damaged beyond repair; it would re-open for students in September, just as it always had. In order to return the heralded destination for all young wizards who were eleven to its former glory, however, a special team of Unspeakables would descend upon Hogwarts in the coming weeks to refortify the castle's walls and perimeters.

As long as the secretive wizarding elite were at the school, no one else would be allowed on the grounds.

Not even Peeves.

Which _had_ been a problem.

The day previous, after several attempts, Filch finally found a way to trap the menacing ghost, and now all of the translucent dead-but-not-gone dwellers resided within a magical room deep in the bowels of the Ministry of Magic, each of them to be released to troll the corridors of Hogwarts as soon as the castle was ready to accept students.

Without Peeves, The Grey Lady, The Red Barron, Nearly Headless Nick, The Fat Friar, and the others, Hogwarts was indeed a cavernous shell.

The ghosts gone, Filch, a few teachers, a group of Aurors, and two students remained:

Neville Longbottom and Draco Malfoy.

Draco's father and mother had been taken into Ministry custody, with little hope of escaping Azkaban, and Neville's grandmother was in St. Mungo's—the excitement of her grandson's heroics had been too much for her. She would likely recover, but for a week more, she would do so in hospital.

The teachers, Aurors, and Filch spent most of their time repairing the damage, but the two students were left to their own devices much of the time.

But not all of the time. Draco had only minutes earlier returned from the Shrieking Shack, where he had retrieved Snape's wand. It hadn't been his wish to do so, but Professor McGonagall had made a comment about Snape's wand the evening previous. Everyone assumed that the Dark Lord had snapped it in two, but Draco had wanted to find out for himself, and he had found it in a corner of the room where Snape's body had been retrieved. There was still blood on the floor and Draco had had to turn away; seeing the place where his Head of House died was more than somewhat disconcerting. He hadn't been in there five minutes when he found the wand, and left.

As he'd departed the room, he thought he'd heard breathing, but a glance around produced nothing, so he had left, but he had a feeling someone had been watching him.

After Draco left his hiding place where he had been observing Filch (Draco was thankful for the Invisibility Cloak his father had left behind when he had been taken into custody), he quietly descended the steps and closed the door that led to the North Tower. As his eyes became accustomed to the torch light, he looked around him at the massive destruction and thought how it had all been for naught.

Why had his parents thought it prudent to raise their son to hate and to want to kill? Better yet, why had he thought it appropriate to go along with such aspirations? Not once had he questioned their reasoning; he had been the good son, and he had done so willingly … if not eagerly.

Now his parents were soon to be locked up in Azkaban.

That was Malfoy finery for you: Follow an egomaniacal tyrant and get yourself thrown into prison.

Draco snorted at the absurdity of his situation. If he were not so damned proud, he might just run away, although, to where, he had no idea.

Someone coughed and Draco could hear breathing. It was the same as before.

Someone was definitely watching him.

Draco turned his head to his right, uncovered himself, and asked who was there. How dare someone spy on him! His surveillance of Filch—that was acceptable—the caretaker, after all, had known all along about the vanishing cabinet and he had never let on that the damaged one could have been used for ill intent. What else had he known about?

The man couldn't be trusted.

But … someone spying on Draco—that was not at all tolerable. Draco glared. "Show yourself," he demanded, his voice stern. If he hadn't seen Potter leave the day previous, he would guess that it was he who was doing the spying, his invisible cloak his shelter, just as it had been Draco's.

None other than Neville Longbottom stepped out from behind one of the smashed bodies of armor. He looked at Draco, his face expressionless.

The boy looked almost as bad as Filch did, and Draco again thanked his mother for healing his numerous wounds immediately following the battle. Longbottom was going to have extensive scarring on his face and arms, which made Draco feel pity for him.

Knowing that you would have scarring on your face—that had to be awful.

Draco had scarring on his chest, side, and back, and he was thankful that no one would ever see either. Longbottom would not be as fortunate.

"Professor McGonagall asked me to come find you; she needs to see you in her office," said a depressed and soft-spoken Longbottom.

Draco didn't acknowledge the message, although, to be sure, he was curious how Longbottom had known where he was; he had been wearing the Invisibility Cloak. However strong his desire to know how he had been found, it was not enough for him to reply, however; he hadn't the strength to sit and listen to what Longbottom's story would be. Instead, he shoved past Longbottom and made his way to the Headmistress's office.

Later that night, as Draco walked along the seventh-floor corridor, outside the Room of Requirement, wanting to see if it looked as if a fire had destroyed it, yet not wanting to, Longbottom once again made an appearance.

"Mr. Filch wants to speak to you," said the boy, his voice not as soft as it had been previously.

Scowl firmly in place, Draco turned towards Longbottom. "What does he want to see me for?" he asked, not wishing to see the man. Ever since he had discovered that Filch had known about the Vanishing Cabinet, he had loathed the Caretaker, who could have put a stop to all of this.

Longbottom shrugged his shoulders. "Not sure, but I overheard him speaking to Kingsley. He didn't look happy."

"Who didn't look happy? Kingsley or Filch?" Draco asked, not quite sure why he cared.

"Filch," added Neville.

"I have nothing to say to him," was Draco's matter-of-fact response, his grey eyes piercing those of Neville's.

"Harry told me that he told you about Filch knowing about the Vanishing Cabinet. He said you seemed upset that he hadn't done anything. I can't imagine you thinking such a thing, Malfoy, and I told Harry that, but he said we shouldn't judge you as harshly as we have in the past. I don't get it, but whatever reason you are upset with Filch for, I don't think he is smart enough to have connected the cabinet with the ability for it to be used for ill purposes. I mean … he's a Squib," Longbottom added, a slight smirk on his face.

Draco rolled his eyes; what a complete berk Longbottom was. "My Uncle Abraxas was a Squib and he was the smartest man I've ever known, Longbottom," spat out Draco, his eyes boring into Longbottom's.

The following day Draco sat by the lake and threw small stones into the still water, watching the ripples as they tore across the placid home of the giant squid.

He didn't want to leave Hogwarts.

Malfoy Manor was his, but he couldn't stand the thought of returning there. So much had taken place within those walls. He had watched a teacher from Hogwarts as she was tortured and murdered, and he had almost witnessed the same of Harry Potter.

Footsteps.

Draco didn't have to look to know who it was. His shadow had returned. "Why can't you leave me the hell alone, Longbottom?"

"I didn't come here to talk to you, Malfoy, I came here to swim," said a frowning Longbottom as he walked down to the lake bank and stopped a few meters away from Draco.

He then proceeded to remove all of his clothing, and, within a second, he was submerged in the water and swimming across to the other side. Draco couldn't seem to pull his gaze away. The boy had quite the lean body, and from what little Draco had seen, that cock of Longbottom's had looked to be the type that Draco salivated over. He continued watching as the boy emerged from the water on the other side, and then as he climbed up onto a rock and dove in.

A few seconds later Longbottom's head popped up a few meters from Draco. "You should come in and have a swim; the water feels wonderful." Then he was swimming again—making waves and disturbing the ripples that Draco had spent the last hour making.

Not too many minutes later, Longbottom splashed Draco, who was not at all pleased. Draco intensified his glare as Longbottom opened his mouth.

"Wake up and smell the roses, Malfoy. You are alive. It is more than you deserve, but there it is. So your parents are going to pay for their crimes. So my grandmother is in hospital and I don't know if I'll ever see her again. I am so angry that I could cry all day if I allowed myself to. It is so unfair that I do something to please my gran and now she might die, but do you know what, Malfoy? We lived. WE LIVED. I thought I was going to die, but I didn't and neither did you."

This time Neville did not submerge his head after he finished speaking. He continued staring at Draco, and whispered once more: "We Lived."

Several minutes passed. Draco let out a deep breath, retrieved his wand, pointed it at himself, and was naked within a few seconds. He stood, walked to the edge, and stepped into the water as Neville began to swim out into the middle of the lake. Draco swam a few laps across the lake, then joined Neville in the middle. "Why?"

Longbottom cocked his head to the side and looked rather constipated. "What do you mean, why?"

"Why are you so damned happy? Your grandmother might die and here you are, happy. I don't get it."

Longbottom laughed and shook his head, but he didn't look at all happy. "You are such a thick git, Malfoy. I am NOT HAPPY. Don't you get it? I am living. I am doing what I am supposed to do. I have spent all of my life trying to please my grandmother and now that I finally have, it has freed me. I am so fucking mad that this has happened the way it has, but I will never regret that I made my gran proud of me. And damn it, Malfoy, I am going to make her even prouder by the way I live my life. It wouldn't hurt you to do the same. Your parents mightn't be the model of good parents, but they did give life to you and did not raise you to mope around as if you were Peeves or the Bloody Baron. Grow up, Malfoy."

Draco lifted his hand to … he wasn't sure what he planned to do, but Longbottom grabbed it and used the pressure between then to close in on Draco.

Then the boy was kissing him. Draco tried to pull away, but when he felt that boy's cock against his leg, every one of Draco's intentions changed.

He decided to live.

He gave in to the kiss and soon took over. He and Neville kissed for as long as possible, and then began doing other things. Neither said a word for the next hour as they nipped, sucked, licked, and bit each other.

Sometime later, the two lay on the bank of the lake, Neville sucking Draco's cock and Draco's hands pulling Neville's head closer with each thrust. Still, there was no talking, but there was much grunting and moaning … oh yes, and much enjoyment.

The two parted ways a few minutes later, without speaking.

Late that night the two made love in Draco's bed, and neither saw fit to speak more than a few necessary words. It was almost as if them not speaking would mean that none of this was real. At least that was how Draco wanted to think. He didn't want to admit that his cock was about to be buried in Neville Longbottom's arse, and he didn't want to admit that he wanted this.

Only when the sun came up the following morning did Draco prop himself on his side and look down at Neville, who was grinning at him. A pale shaky finger traced the round face, then Draco swallowed. He tried to grin, but he couldn't. He would be leaving Hogwarts within the hour. He would perhaps see Neville again in the future, but never again would the two share a moment as they had this night. All Draco could do was whisper, "Thank you."


End file.
